


ask to be unbroken

by marrieddorks



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Hints of Regent grossness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Worried!Damen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marrieddorks/pseuds/marrieddorks
Summary: As it often did in situations like this, Damen’s brain chose that opportune moment to remember. It remembered the last time he and Laurent had touched.  That memory was a ghost gripping hard at the barrier of past and present as their hands brushed while Damen handed over the bag.  If he focused hard enough he could still feel the gentle tips of Laurent’s fingers on his palm, the heavy weight of the keys that were dropped there to replace them.





	ask to be unbroken

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first (published) capri fanfic and i'm horribly nervous about posting, about dipping into this fandom, about characterization, about writing, about it all. but i love them so very much and i had to get something out there for them since i think about them constantly, every single day <3
> 
> not beta'd by anybody. all mistakes are my own.
> 
> title from 'to noise making (sing)' by hozier

Damen knew he was driving too fast. The weight of his foot on the gas pedal told him that. The way Nik’s knuckles were white on the passenger side door handle told him that. The number on the speedometer told him that.

Damen knew he was driving too fast and he didn’t care. The voicemail he had received not even half an hour ago kept playing over in his head.

_“Hi, this is Thea Kashel, a nurse at Arles’ university hospital. We have a Mr. Laurent DeVere here and you’re listed as his emergency cont —”_

He had been at the gym when the call first came. He had been on one of the rowing machines, finishing up a 1,000 metre row, the fifth of his circuit, when his music cut off and his screen darkened with an unrecognizable local number. It had been easy to ignore at first, his mind in that glazed-over focus it obtained when he was completely into his workout. There had been no lull in his pace, no hesitancy in his pulls, and, as though it never happened, his phone quickly returned to normal, the screen white-bright and blaring a too-loud fast-tempoed song full of forgetful lyrics.

It was about a minute later that his phone screen changed again, this time indicating a voicemail. Nik must’ve seen him huff and eventually stand to wipe at his face with the bottom of his sweat-drenched shirt and move to the back of the gym. It was Nik who managed to get the key in the ignition of the car not even five minutes later, Damen’s hands suddenly uncoordinated.

Damen knew he was driving too fast and he didn’t care. He had to get to Laurent.

It was only when the hospital came into view that Nik’s voice — hesitant, exasperated, and worried all at once — managed to filter passed the cacophony of sound in Damen’s mind.

“Damen...Damen, you need to get your head on straight before going in there. There’s a good chance other people may have already arrived, people like Jord or Nicaise or even his uncle. And,” Nik paused, his air momentarily taken away as Damen turned the steering wheel sharply. “And there’s also a good chance he might not want you there.”

Damen said nothing for a moment. He swung the car into an open parking space at the back of the lot. When the engine cut off, the silence made Damen’s adrenaline-speeding heartbeat too loud for his liking. “He might not want me there, Nik, but he needs me. Even if he’s fine, he,” Damen swallowed, “he needs me.”

The entirety of the walk up to the front doors, to the front desk, the elevator, and eventually the third floor’s nurses’ station was a blur. It was only when the nurse whose brown eyes reminded Damen of his mother’s asked him if he himself needed a doctor that he snapped out of his haze.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. I’m actually here for Laurent. Laurent DeVere. I got a phone call and I got here as soon as I could.”

“You must be Damen,” she said with a smile. “No need to look so pale. Mr. DeVere is off getting x-rays, but he should be back in a few minutes. You could wait in his room if you’d like. The doctor should be with him when he gets there and he’ll go over everything with you all.”

She pointed them down the hallway to room 343. It smelled sterile and it felt cold. There were no machines beeping ominously, no IV bags dripping, no medical chart to read. The sheets of the hospital bed were still crisp and tucked neatly at the sides. There was no sign of Laurent anywhere in room 343 except for the plastic bag sitting on the cheap bedside table, letters written messily in black marker spelling out Laurent’s full name on its side.

“His stuff is all here it seems,” Nik pointed out as though Damen’s full attention wasn’t honed in on the bag with blood smeared on the inside. “The nurse didn’t seem worried, Damen,” Nik spoke again. Damen could feel Nik’s eyes burning a stare at his profile.

“They see this kind of stuff everyday. To them, he’s just a patient, Nik. They don’t know him.”

There was no response. Instead the silence took over, deafening in its strength. Nik sat down eventually on the plasticy couch by the window. Damen paced. He paced door to window and bed to wall. It was Nik who, once again, spoke first, voice casual.

“I haven’t seen Jord or Lazar. Or that tiny devil Nicaise. Or Laurent’s uncle.”

A new emotion flared in Damen’s vision at the mention, blurring, however briefly, his worry. “That bastard better not show his face here. Not today. I’m not in the mood for his word-games.”

“You’ve never told me what that man did to make Laurent, and you, hate him so much.”

“I don’t know what he’s done, really,” Damen admitted. “But Laurent can’t stomach the sight of him. And between that and the way his uncle always has the same look about him...has the same specific look in his eyes...I don’t know. I often fantasize about what it’d be like to hit him for what all he’s ever done.”

Nik’s eyebrows were furrowed, his frown deep, but whatever he was going to say was lost in the sound of voices entering the room.

There was a whole speech that had been halfway planned in Damen’s head since arriving at the hospital. He was fully aware there was some rambling, some grasping for understanding, some fretting over Laurent’s well-being, and anger all in it. But all those planned words, all the replaying of past conversations and that damned voicemail from the nurse, dissipated at the first sight of Laurent.

He looked so small. His frame was dwarfed by the wheelchair and the doctor, an already tall figure, standing at full height by his side. The hospital gown was white and light, like his skin and his hair, and it washed him out. The fluorescent lighting humming above them didn’t help in the matter.

There was an unsure moment at first. Laurent and the doctor were so deep in quiet conversation that Damen and Nik’s presence went largely unnoticed for moment. Damen has paused awkwardly in his pacing and was seemingly glued to a spot right by the bed. Nik was truly the only one of the two of them within Laurent and the doctor’s vision where they were waiting in the doorway and it took the doctor asking Laurent a question to spark everything into motion.

At first, Laurent turned to look at the room, eyes scanning for what Damen assumed was the bag containing all of his possessions. He promptly stopped at the sight of Nik who was strangely hunched on the couch as though he couldn’t determine if he wanted to stand up or run away. Less than ten seconds passed by before Laurent’s eyes kept moving on a different kind of search and Damen stepped out of the blindspot between the door and bed to give a small wave.

An all-too-familiar blank look took over Laurent’s face, one Damen had hoped to never see directed toward him again, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that, not when Laurent was saying “Thank you, Dr. Paschal,” before standing out of the wheelchair, the dismissal of the doctor too evident.

Laurent took one step, then another, and another and the something that had put him here was obvious in the way he moved. Damen was helpless from stepping forward.

“Stay where you were,” came Laurent’s clipped reply to Damen’s unvoiced concern. Damen and Nik both watched as Laurent, gently, made his way to the stiff hospital bed and eased himself into sitting on it. “If you’re going to stand there, you could at least be useful and pass me my bag.”

As it often did in situations like this, Damen’s brain chose that opportune moment to remember. It remembered the last time he and Laurent had touched. That memory was a ghost gripping hard at the barrier of past and present as their hands brushed while Damen handed over the bag. If he focused hard enough he could still feel the gentle tips of Laurent’s fingers on his palm, the heavy weight of the keys that were dropped there to replace them.

Nik must have stood while Damen was overthinking because suddenly his hand was clapping Damen’s shoulder as he muttered, “I’m going to go wait outside. Text me.”

“You smell vile,” was how Laurent chose to fill the next bout of silence.

“I was at the gym when I got the call.” He hadn’t even thought to change, to shower. Hell, thinking about it now, he was almost completely certain he had abandoned his water bottle, his jacket, and maybe even his entire gym bag in the process of getting here.

“Yes, well,” Laurent started, back to Damen as he riffled through his belongings, “there’s no need for you to be here. I tried to tell them I hadn’t gotten around to changing any of my information yet, but they were too preoccupied.”

It was an even clearer dismissal than the doctor had received. It left Damen defenseless. Yet, despite the discordant tone of Laurent’s voice, Damen still knew him. Damen reminded himself that he knew Laurent better than anyone and that was, no doubt, the driving factor of Laurent not wanting him here. Or, at least, one of the driving factors. Laurent’s shoulders were in a perfectly straight line, willfully held that way to hide just how badly he wanted to lie down or hunch over. Even from where Laurent was sitting on the bed Damen could see the bandages running over his left shoulder.

“Did you lose your hearing in the last six months?” Laurent asked rhetorically.

“You must be joking,” Damen said. There was an edge to his voice now that it was suddenly found and it caused Laurent to turn and look at Damen over his shoulder. The way his hair moved only infuriated Damen more. “We dated for over a year, Laurent. An entire year. And it took six months just to get you to talk to me for more than five minutes, let alone go on a date with me. But then you did and it turned into the best year of my life. Of course, that was before you showed up at my apartment at one in the morning to tell me that this wasn’t working out before turning around and leaving me with no explanation to the apparent shift in your feelings.” Damen was moving around the bed, his shoes loud on the hospital linoleum, until he was standing right in front of Laurent. “Then I was left with a dozen unanswered phone calls to you. And then I quit calling because I know you and I was, and am, aware that if I make you resent me in any way, there would be no shot at you even giving me the time of day. You left me with no answers, no explanations, no understanding for over half a year, Laurent. So I won’t sit and apologize for being here, for, rightfully, panicking when I received a phone call telling me you were in the hospital. Because in that moment I forgot all the unanswered calls. All I could think about was getting to you and making sure you were okay.”

The sterile smell of the room, the unwavering coldness of its impersonalness, was replaced by a charged tension. It felt like the air during a thunderstorm just before lightning struck, anticipatory and breakable, and it was so strong that Damen felt like he couldn’t breathe. The surrealness of everything was finally starting to catch up with him after the whirlwind of the last hour. He was drained.

“But you’re clearly fine and I’m clearly not wanted so I’m going to find Nik and go home. I wish you all the best with your recovery from whatever the hell happened that put you here. And you might want to change your emergency contact information today because if I ever get a call again I will be here.”

Laurent had always said that Damen could wake the dead with how loudly he walked and it was clear in the continued way his footsteps seemed to echo on this flooring. He made it to the threshold, mind clearer and heart aching, when he heard his Laurent.

“Nicaise spooked Giselle.” Damen stopped, his hand resting on the door. “I was out checking her hooves. Her back right leg had seemed a tad lagging on our ride the day before. I wanted to make sure everything was alright before taking her out again. Nicaise came running up suddenly. She kicked.”

There was the sound of rustling fabric and Damen turned around. Laurent was pulling down the left side of his hospital gown, revealing the sharp jut of his collarbone, the fine curve of his neck into his shoulder, and, further down, a large piece of gauze and bandage, still leaking with blood.

“Dr. Paschal is looking over the x-rays to make certain the pain in my sternum is just bruising and not it being broken. Otherwise they think I’m relatively fine. I just have to stay off the horse for a while.”

Laurent started fixing up his gown, eyes downcast as he pulled it gently back over his shoulder. Damen was still in the doorway, eyes glued to the shadows of Laurent’s pale eyelashes. When Laurent finally looked up, his stare was no longer blank. Damen nodded.

“Is that why Nicaise isn’t here then?”

“Oh, I think he’s embarrassed. He screamed when I went down and you know he’s going to now try to cover up the fact that he cares about me. I’m sure I won’t see or hear from him for a few days,” Laurent said, smile small and wry.

Damen’s own smile echoed as he said, “Yes, there’s something about the two of you. You don’t like people to know you care about them.”

“Excuse me,” Damen heard from behind and he turned to see the doctor back, a stack of papers in hand.

“Dr. Paschal,” Laurent said in greeting this time. The doctor made his way around Damen’s form before standing in front of Laurent in the same place Damen had just been several minutes earlier. Laurent wasn’t looking at Damen anymore.

“I’ve got your results back if —”

“He’s already aware of the situation, there’s no need for privacy,” Laurent answered the unasked question.

“Very well. In that case, you’ll be pleased to know that it is deep bruising causing most of your pain, nothing more. I’ve prescribed some pain medication to help alleviate the symptoms, but as it is a bone bruise it is going to take about two months to properly heal. Until then, I want you off of the horses for an entire month. You need to come see me at that time and from there I will determine if you’re ready to start easing your way back into the saddle.” There was a fight evident on Laurent’s face, but Dr. Paschal continued on. “You also need to take it extremely easy for some time. There is a definite need of you to have a driver for this first week of recovery. Even the weight and press of seatbelt is going to cause you discomfort.”

“Anything else?” Laurent asked drily.

“Not at the moment. I’ve already penciled in a check-up date for next month. Should there be any problems with the date or time, you can always call and reschedule.” Dr. Paschal sorted through some of the papers in hand, neatly ordering them before passing them along to Laurent. “Your prescription is just there underneath your discharge papers. I trust you have someone to drive you home tonight?”

“He does,” Damen answered, speaking for the first time since the doctor arrived. Both Dr. Paschal and Laurent turned to him.

“Excellent,” Dr. Paschal said. “Try to sleep well tonight, Mr. DeVere. Your prescription will be ready in the morning. What I gave you earlier should, at the very least, help you rest.” With that, he nodded at Damen as he left the room once again. Laurent stared after him.

“I can make other arrangements,” Laurent spoke in that same quiet voice as earlier. It was so reminiscent of Laurent at the beginning of their relationship, unsure about dating and protocol and unsure of himself for one of the first times in a long time, that Damen had to stop himself from doing something stupid.

 “I’m already here.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is.” Laurent was staring again. “I’m going to go tell Nik. Try not to run away out the window or anything while I’m gone.”

“I don’t have a shirt without blood on it,” Laurent said quickly. Damen looked at him, watched as he clutched the plastic bag with all his belongings in it to his chest.

“I’ll go tell Nik and see if I have an extra shirt or something in my car.”

It was easy to find Nik. It was easy to find Nik, not necessarily because he was in an obvious place, the third floor waiting room, but because Damen could hear Lazar all the way back at the nurses’ station.

“Let me tell you, the clubs in Vask are incomparable to anything here. I consider myself a pretty versatile kind of guy, but I’ve never been so quick to want to get on my knees than with those do-as-I-say ladies around me.”

“Antagonizing the entire waiting room, Lazar?” Damen asked.

“Thank god,” Nik muttered, quickly standing.

“Look at you, you giant, glorious bastard,” Lazar said as hello, earning eyerolls from everyone, but the biggest one from Jord who must have had to tolerate Lazar for an entire car ride here as well.

There were some quick hugs exchanged, some general life updates shared, before Damen explained that Laurent was fine and Nicaise merely had spooked his horse.

“Tiny devil,” Jord drolled.

“We ready then?” Nik’s arms were crossed, the car keys dangling from his right hand, and Damen felt himself rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ah. No. Not really.”

“I thought I noticed a bounce to your step,” said Nik. “I trust his horse didn’t damage him in any dire way?”

“No, he should be okay. But he does need a ride home and I thought that since I’m already here…” Damen trailed off. It was easy to guess what Nik was going to say. Nik had always been Damen’s most straightforward friend, especially about relationships, and his opinion of Laurent had decreased considerably after Laurent ended things.

“I suppose there’s no arguing with you,” Nik started. “I’m tired and need a shower and you’re going to do whatever you want. And I know you want this. I suppose if it takes making Laurent physically incapable of escaping you for you to, at the very least, get some closure, then so be it.”

“You can grab a ride home with us,” Jord offered.

“Yeah, and we can pick up Pallas on the way,” Lazar said, eyebrows wagging. Nik sighed.

“I trust you won’t do anything too stupid?” he asked and with a toss the car keys were in Damen’s hands.

“Can’t guarantee that.”

“Figured as much.” Nik shrugged on his jacket. “Please don’t call me upset because Laurent continues to be a cast iron bitch until at least nine in the morning.”

“Thanks for your support!” Damen called after their retreating figures and Nik shot up his hand in a dismissive wave.

It took several minutes to get down to his car, tidy up his seats, and pull a clean, but wrinkled, t-shirt out of his bag. It was dark blue and worn-soft, the color just starting to fade. It would have to do.

The chill of the nighttime air was evident as Damen made his way back inside. His skin pimpled with gooseflesh while he stood in the elevator, absorbing the heat from the more tolerable inside temperature. Rubbing absently at his arms, Damen only realized he should have knocked a second too late. Laurent was standing there, unsteady, his riding pants pulled on again, but wearing nothing else. He looked at Damen.

“I believe my pain medication is starting to kick in.” There was no slur to his words as Laurent was more controlled than that, but the proof was there. Damen stepped forward and this time Laurent didn’t stop him.

“Let me help.”

The lightning was back. Laurent sat back down on the bed, stiff, but in the exact same place he had been when Damen left him, and he stuck out his right foot. Damen didn’t need any instruction. Silently he came over to the bed, picked up the first riding boot, and kneeled. Despite Laurent’s current state of tiredness, pain, and high levels of medication, his foot was elegantly pointed, allowing Damen to slip the boot into place quite quickly. Never one for simplicity, however, Laurent’s riding boots always had a series of laces at the front. While he pushed and pulled each one into place, Damen could feel Laurent’s stare, the manifestation of the feeling an embodiment of their proximity. He didn’t look up. A minute later he picked up the left boot and repeated the motions.

Tugging once on both sets of laces to make sure they were tied correctly, Damen finally stood, wiping his hands on the edge of his shorts.

“Here’s a shirt,” Damen said, passing over the shirt in a wad, before busying himself with the rest of Laurent’s belongings. All that had been brought with him was his wallet and phone. When Damen turned the phone over there was a list of text messages, all from Nicaise, and a single missed call, the number not given a name.

“Laurent, you —” Damen started, but his words caught in his throat. It was easy to miss the miles and miles of Laurent’s ivory skin, easy to miss its softness and touch. It had also been easy to ignore that when he had been more concerned of the bruising and blood on that exposed skin. What was impossible to ignore was the image Laurent suddenly made, swimming in Damen’s shirt.

Once again, Damen’s mind chose that opportune moment to remember and it could have been yesterday that Laurent had been bathed in morning sunlight, sweet and soft above Damen. Without even thinking too much Damen could recall the feel of Laurent’s hands, one on Damen’s shoulder and the other tangled in his hair. He could feel Laurent’s rabbit-fast pulse as he had pressed a kiss to inside of Laurent’s wrist where the skin was fine and thin.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Laurent pointed out, palms flat on the bed. The bottom of the shirt rested on his thighs.

Damen cleared his throat. “What look?”

“The same look you had on our fourth date.” Laurent was moving as he spoke, legs wobbly as he tried to go to the wheelchair. Damen grabbed at it quickly, easing it over so Laurent could fall into it.

“Fourth date?”

“The date where I invited you inside afterward,” Laurent said. Damen paused, both hands on the handles of the wheelchair.

“Let’s get you home,” was what he decided to say and with that he was pushing the wheelchair into the hallway. He gave a quick wave to the nurse at the nurses’ station and, when in the main lobby, politely asked one of the nurses to keep an eye on Laurent while he went and got the car.

Getting into the car was a quiet affair. Laurent shoved at Damen’s hands as he tried to lift him into the passenger side seat, but they were quickly on the road, Damen turning left at the second stoplight instead of right. He tried not to think about how right it felt to be heading toward Laurent’s house.

“I see you’re still listening to garbage,” Laurent said with no heat. Damen looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. The street lights they were passing highlighted the aristocratic upturn of Laurent’s nose. Damen’s eyes then ventured to his center console where his phone had automatically connected to Bluetooth and was quietly playing the last song he had been listening to at the gym, some meaningless high-tempoed chart-topper.

“You know I can only listen to garbage when I’m at the gym,” Damen agreed. He went straight at the stoplight.

Laurent hummed. Whether it was a hum of acknowledgement or a hum of distaste, Damen wasn’t certain. He pressed the volume button, muting the sound altogether.

When they finally pulled up to Laurent’s house, Damen was hit with a wave of familiarity so strong that he pressed the brakes a tad too hard.

Laurent’s house, otherwise known as The Manor, was all that was left of the DeVere family. Well, the house and Laurent himself. The Manor was a larger-than-life gothic house, its exterior made of stone and pillars and pointed archways. Damen knew that if you stood underneath any of the arches you would see intricate carvings of people and places, carvings that paled in comparison to the flamboyant interior. When Laurent had first brought Damen here, he told him the nickname he had given this place was the Viper Pit.

It had always been assumed that Laurent would eventually leave The Manor. But Damen also knew that the large stables and riding area were too good to let go of. And Damen knew Laurent would never rid of his horses, especially Giselle.

“Wait here, I’m going to go open the door and get some lights on so it’s easier to get you inside,” Damen said, turning off the car. “No worries, I remember where your spare key is.”

The house was chilly inside and, after getting the entryway, hallway, kitchen, and Laurent’s bedroom lights on, Damen went over to the thermostat and cranked it up a good two degrees.

“It’s slightly worrisome how well you remember my home,” Laurent said to him as he walked back to the car.

“And why is that?”

“You’ve seen the news headlines. ‘Crazy man breaks into his ex’s house.’” Laurent was trying to stand. “You seem to know my house better than even I do.”

“Do you really think I would ever do such a thing?” Damen asked incredulously, starting to reach for Laurent who was now too aware of his difficulties of motor function.

“No, my honorable barbarian, I don’t think you would. If you weren’t such a good man, it would be terrifyingly worrisome, however.”

“Here, let me,” Damen started, hand sliding underneath Laurent’s right knee.

“Don’t make me regret what I just said,” Laurent said with a hint of ice, but his hand was steady on Damen’s shoulder, allowing him to pull him out of the car while safely ducking his head from hitting the car at all.

“It worries me how worried you seem to be about me taking advantage of you.”

“Well, do forgive me. It’s not you as much as it’s the rest of the men around me.”

Damen was baring all Laurent’s weight, being as gentle as he could with Laurent’s left side. It took them several minutes to make it inside the front door at that pace, but Laurent only winced once in pain during it.

When the door was finally closed and locked, they began their large trek, this time down the exceedingly long hallway to the last room on the right. Damen guided Laurent over to the desk chair as it was closest to the closet and dresser drawers.

“Let’s get you into some comfortable clothes for sleeping,” Damen said, already moving to the second drawer where he knew Laurent’s sleep shirts were located.

“I’d like to stay in this shirt, if that’s alright,” Laurent said to him, fingers tangled at the hem of the blue material.

“Does your shoulder hurt too much to change?” Damen asked, worried that the pain medication wasn’t doing its job.

“No, but this smells like you. I’d like to keep it on.”

Damen swallowed and turned back to the drawers, pushing the second one back in and pulling at the third one instead, shuffling around for a pair of basic sweatpants.

“I think you’ve forgotten,” Damen mumbled as he pulled out the first pair of soft black material he found.

“Forgotten what?” Laurent asked. Damen silently damned Laurent’s keen mind for paying attention in this state.

“We’re broken up, Laurent,” Damen told him slowly, eyebrows a little furrowed in his uncertainty. He felt like he was treading dangerous waters and soon he would be drowning if he didn’t keep his head up.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Laurent said. His voice was quiet.

Damen watched him for a moment, took in the shallow movements of his chest, took in the way his blue eyes had seemed to darken to match the shade of Damen’s shirt, took in the intensity of his stare. Like in the hospital room, Damen kneeled, this time to pull off the intricate laces. It was different now. Laurent’s bedroom was a familiar place, a place of intimacy. Laurent’s bedroom was their first time.

It was impossible not to think about it as he grasped Laurent’s right foot. Laurent had been right earlier, it was their fourth date that Laurent had invited Damen inside. Unlike some of Damen’s past dates, Laurent hadn’t even attempted to guise it as a nightcap or a cup of coffee to finish the night away with. Laurent had known what he had wanted and he made it very clear that what he wanted was Damen in his bedroom. It hadn’t been ten minutes later that Damen had ended up in a position not all that different to the one he was in now, only his mouth was preoccupied and Laurent’s mind-drunk state was caused by pleasure as opposed to medication.

When the boots were off, it was easy to pull Laurent’s riding pants off of his legs and pull on the cotton sweats. Laurent was a different figure when he wasn’t dressed so austerely. The illusion hadn’t been there at any point of the night, not with the hospital gown and Damen’s own oversized shirt, but even Laurent out of his boots and his riding pants was a figure unguarded. Standing tall, Damen looked down to ask Laurent if anything else was needed first when Laurent gazed up at him and said, so earnestly, “I miss you. I miss our conversations.”

It was too much for Damen. The entire night had too much for Damen, but this moment was heady in how it preyed on Damen’s emotions.

“You’re not yourself,” Damen said quickly. “I need to take you to bed.”

“Then, take me.”

“You’re going to hate us both in the morning,” Damen told Laurent, more for his own sake than anything. “Especially because I’m staying here. God help us.”

He half-dropped, half-poured Laurent onto the bed and tried not to look at Laurent’s hooded eyes as he pulled the blankets up around his neck.

“Try to get some rest,” Damen said after switching off the light.

Even though there was a good half-a-dozen guest bedrooms within The Manor, Damen wasn’t comfortable in any of them. With a sigh, he grabbed a blanket out of the hallway closet, trying not to think about the time a storm had knocked the power out and he and Laurent had felt their way along the walls, giggling like idiots until they found the same closet for blankets to keep warm. The couch would do for the night.

When he awoke a few short hours later, the sun was high up in the sky and Laurent was still in bed. As quietly as he could, Damen folded up the blanket he had used, meandered his way to the kitchen, started up the coffee maker with a few minutes of preparation, and filled up a glass of water to pair with the bottle of ibuprofen. Damen had left Laurent’s door open through the night so he could better listen for any extreme movements on Laurent’s part. Having heard nothing, Damen walked in expecting to see Laurent in his favorite sleeping position, on his side, right leg slightly bent, and the pillow hugged longwise against his body. Damen nearly jumped when, instead, he walked in to Laurent wide-eyed and watching the door.

“I was wondering when you would make your way in here,” Laurent said, voice low with unuse.

“I didn’t expect you to be awake.”

“I haven’t been very long.”

Damen walked the water and bottle of ibuprofen over to Laurent. “This should tide you over until you can get your pain medication today.”

He watched silently as Laurent popped off the top of the medicine bottle and dumped three pills into his palm. With one, two swallows, he had them and two gulps of water down.

“I apologize,” Laurent said suddenly. It startled Damen and he almost dropped the still-open ibuprofen bottle on the floor. Laurent’s cheeks were pink with the barest hint of color, hands tangled in the dark blue sheet at his waist.

“For what?”

Laurent huffed with a bit of amusement. “For not changing my emergency contact information, for being the way I was to you when you first got to the hospital, for getting over-medicated and unable to control my mouth. I could go on, but I’m sure you get the idea.”

“Don’t worry about it. Any of it.”

“I meant what I said last night, or what I implied. You are a good man, Damen. Any other would not have shown up and definitely would not have stayed.”

As last night had proven, Laurent got talkative when he was uncomfortable and even moreso when he was uncomfortable and intoxicated in someway. But Damen knew himself and he got talkative when he was overwhelmed with emotion. He begged his mind to think before his mouth spoke.

“Why did you end things then?” Damen damned himself. “If your opinion of me is still what you said, if your ramblings last night were any indication of your unfiltered thoughts then why? And why —”

“Damen, there are no complete answers to any questions that you have,” Laurent sighed.

“You have answers and motives to everything you say and do. Don’t sit there and lie to me again. You can’t say the things you say without consequences, Laurent!” Damen could feel himself losing control and he didn’t care. “I can’t get over you. You’re in my thoughts every single day. I’ve been worried sick about you, wondering if you’re alright, if I should have fought harder to get back to you. I’ve contemplated everything that I left unsure about, like the walls you put up around yourself and the bizarre relationship you have with your uncle. I’ve got burned into memory the way you open your eyes in the morning and the feel of your hair and the fact that you can come from my lips on your neck and nothing more. And I can’t get closure from any of it because it ended with you at my front door at an ungodly hour with that horrible blank look on your face and no reason as to why you handed back the spare keys to my apartment like we weren’t getting ready to move in together.”

“Look around you, Damen.” There was ice back in Laurent’s voice and his eyes matched. “I’m in an empty mansion of a house. The only other souls on this god forsaken lot of land are my horses and, occasionally, Nicaise. That is, when he manages to get out of my uncle’s sight for a moment. There is no future here. Not now and maybe not ever. And you,” Laurent laughed, the sound cruel, “you don’t want this. You can try and convince yourself that you do, but you don’t. I only pushed the fast-forward button on what was already going to happen. You can thank me when you’ve got your wife and your two and a half kids in a few years.”

It was Damen’s turn to laugh and he himself could hear the hysterical edge to it. It must have went well with how comically wide his eyes were. “So there wasn’t any actual reason? You ended things because you made an assumption of my wants and needs and decided that was that? You’re selfish.”

“Oh, yes, heaven forbid I think about your happiness,” Laurent rolled his eyes.

“You are my happiness!” Damen was moving, his knees hitting the hard and cold floor right at the edge of the bed, making him eye-level with Laurent’s frozen expression. “I had never experienced love until you came into my life. Everyday, even the bad days, was so good because you were by my side. And I wanted to spend all of my days with you. I was ready to spend all of my days with you.”

“Then you’re a fool.” Damen could hear the tremor there, Laurent’s own carefully calculated control disappearing into being himself.

“Maybe so.” His hand, on its own volition, tucked a strand of blond hair behind Laurent’s ear. They both shuddered. “Nik always says so.”

“Nik’s never liked me.”

“Yeah, that’s why he thinks I’m a fool.”

“My life is about to get incredibly messy.” Laurent’s voice had a different kind of edge to it. “I don’t say that in any kind of hyperbolic way. I mean it literally. Anyone who is part of my life is going to get dragged into it, innocent or not.”

“I don’t care,” Damen said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed instead of on the floor.

“But anyone who —”

“I just told you,” Damen cut him off, “I want to spend all of my days with you, even the bad ones.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Kiss me.”

Laurent didn’t protest, Damen was riding the highest wave of an emotional tsunami, and Laurent’s lips were as soft as Damen remembered. There was a hesitancy at first, Laurent’s head pillowed by the headboard, his hands firmly planted on the mattress, but then he yielded to the kiss, sank into it like he was touch-starved. Damen’s hand, the same one that had tucked a stray strand of hair, brushed over Laurent’s jaw, over the apple of his cheek, softly.

“My chest,” Laurent muttered breathlessly against Damen’s lips when they parted.

“What? Oh!” Damen exclaimed suddenly, pulling back too fast, hands soothing over Laurent’s left shoulder. “We should probably change the bandage?”

“Probably.”

“I think the doctor gave you some in a mix of all the paperwork, I’ll go —”

“Damen?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.” Laurent was pink again with the demand. Damen thought his heart might beat out of his chest.

Practically bouncing his way to the kitchen — which now smelled of freshly brewed coffee — a few minutes later, Damen made certain to check the time on the clock before pulling out the fresh bandages.

Nik had said not until nine and it was now half past that. Damen would give him a call soon.


End file.
